


The Tithe

by Dellessa



Series: Autonomy [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts:<br/>58. Slavery AU: Mirage/Hound, Inferno/Red Alert, Jazz/Prowl, Twins/Bluestreak -Owner and pet party<br/>24.Slavery AU: Prowl/Jazz -Doorwing piercings</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tithe

The parties that Jazz organized were the few times that Prowl got to see his brother. He cherished those times, and snuggled closer to the other Praxians. Their stories were different, and yet the same still. Praxus’ price for autonomy was the vornly lottery. One hundred of Praxus’ cities inhabitants were chosen for tithe to the Prime. There was an allotted number from each social strata. These mechs were the only citizens to leave the city, and they were never allowed back. 

Prowl had been chosen two vorns ago, and the following vorn Bluestreak had volunteered in order to find his brother. Prowl had been terrified, but it was a relief as well the twins that had bought Bluestreak from the auction block clearly doted on him and were not into the same sort of things that Jazz one. Prowl rather enjoyed the things his master did to him. Even the pain. Bluestreak was cut from an entirely different sort of metal though. He liked being cared for. Prowl could tell. 

“You are off in the clouds today,” Mirage whispered. The noblemechs doorwings flicked. 

Prowl smiled, “I suppose so. I’ve been looking forward to this. It’s good to see you all are well.” 

Bluestreak wiggled closer until he was tucked against Prowl’s side. “We have been looking forward to it to. I missed you,” his brother purred. 

“You always miss him,” Red Alert stage whispered. 

“Of course I do,” Bluestreak said, “He’s my favourite brother.” 

“We know you do,” Mirage said in placating manner, and pulled something from his subspace, “I brought some of the treats hound bought me. Would you like some?” 

Bluestreak let out a little squeal and held his hand out expectantly. Mirage put a sweet treat in it and Bluestreak ate it greedily, moaning as the shell broke and sweet high-grade flooded his oral cavity. “Oh, these are the best,” he said around his mouthful. 

“If you keep eating like that your protoform is going to be busting out between your seams,” Red Alert said, watching the littlest Praxian as he took another treat.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Mirage scolded. “Let him indulge. It is our time together, and it is a time to celebrate.” 

“Mirage is right,” Prowl said, and pet Bluestreak’s wings gently. “We are the lucky ones. Not everyone who is auctioned off in the lottery go to kind masters such as ours. Not everyone is treated so well.” He looked over to where their owners were preoccupied playing cards. He wasn’t sure what card game it was, and did not care to learn. He wasn’t not allowed to play with them anyway. He turned his attention back to his brother, cuddling him. “We are very lucky.” 

“Very lucky,” Bluestreak agreed and snatched up another treat from the box that Mirage had brought.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

_Prowl looked at the number in his hand, and shook his helm in denial. This couldn't be real. Still he found himself walking up towards the stage like a sleepwalker. Running would do no good. Mechs that ran were executed. He had seen it before. He knew he could not get away._

_“Prowl! Where are you going? What’s wrong?” Bluestreak said, and gasped when Prowl showed him the number in his hand. The little screen had Prowl’s name beside it and flashed green._

_“No! No! You can’t go! You can’t leave me,” the little Praxian begged. “No! Please no!”_

_“Don’t make a scene, Bluestreak,” Smokescreen said and grabbed a hold of Bluestreak’s arm, pulling him away from their brother. “He has to go. He doesn’t have a choice.”_

_Bluestreak wailed, and Prowl’s spark broke._

_Prowl looked over at his little brother, and gave him a sad smile, “It’s okay, little Blue. It will be okay. I promise. Just remember that I love you. Doesn’t matter where you are._

_Bluestreak whimpered, “I’ll find you. I promise I will find you.”_

_“No Blue. Don’t worry about me. Forget about me. Please,” Prowl said, and made himself turn away. He could not face the hurt on his brother’s face._

_He made his way to the platform, and turned in his pad. His hands were shaking as he did so. he twisted them together as he took his place in the line._

_It was surreal and terrifying. He stared off into space as the last few numbers were called out. It felt like a dream, a very bad dream, but it was clear that it was not when they were marched out of the city gates and into the waiting transports. He huddled inside with the rest of them._

_He was too shocked to rest, and he had no chance when they arrived in Iacon. They were herded out of the transports, and separated into groups, and taken to what looked like a medbay._

_“Come with me,” a bright green medic snapped, and pushed Prowl into one of the many private rooms. “Up on the berth.”_

_Prowl climbed up, and his wings flattened to his back. He couldn't’ stop thinking about the look on Bluestreak's face._

_“Open your ports,” the medic snapped, and shoved his jack in as soon as the cover slid away. The medic cut through Prowl’s firewalls like they were not even there. It hurt, and wrung a whimper from the back and white Praxian._

_“No virus’ good. Now lay back.”_

_Prowl sat back, hating the way that the hard berth pressed against his wings. That thought flew out of his mind a the medic magnetized one of his heels to the medical stirrups and then the other. Prowl wiggled, which just made the medic growl._

_“Stop it or I will magnetize your aft to the berth.”_

_Prowl stared, he had no doubt that the mech would. It didn’t stop him from whimpering when the mech pushed open his panels and examined the seals beneath them._

_“Oh, that is lovely. They are going to get a lot out of you. But first we need to get you fixed up.” The green mech turned to the shelf and brought out a box. he opened it carefully revealing a slave collar, which he carefully fastened around Prowl’s neck._

_The mech then began to strip away Prowl’s enforcer insignia. Prowl vented hard, offlining his optics. He had worked so hard for those marks of rank._

_When the medic was satisfied he lead Prowl to another mech that took him into the washwracks and scrubbed him down. Another mech touched up his paint and finally he was taken to still another mech who waxed him until his plating shone like liquid._

_“Come along. We don’t have all day,” a mech with bright purple optics said, and looked at Prowl in a way that it was like he was assessing the worth of a mechanimal and not a sentient mech. “Buyers are waiting.”_

_Prowl was too numb to try and formulate a reply. The mech pulled him along, and shoved him into the middle of a small stage._

_“Next up we have an former enforcer. He would make a good body guard, and still look pretty enough to take to berth. I have the first bid starting at 90,000 credits. Do I hear a bid of 90,000?”_

_It was all happening to fast for Prowl’s confused processor. The mech lead him through the gathered crowd, and to the receptionist. He filled out paperwork, and pocketed it before he finally lead Prowl out into the night._

_“So, your name is Prowl?” the mech asked casually as he lead the smaller mech said. “Yeah it fits you.”_

_Prowl nodded. His vocalizer didn’t want to work, so he simply nodded. He followed the mech to a private transport, and sat back as the pilot took off. He had never been on a transport like this. It was...pricey...and so was the apartment they they ended up in. It took up, what seemed to Prowl, the entire top floor of the highrise. The mech pulled him through it before Prowl could get too good of a look and ushered him into the berthroom. The mech smelled strongly of high-grade, which made Prowl’s tanks roll. He wanted to be away from this mech. he wanted to be home._

_“You’re so beautiful,” the mech crooned and pushed him down onto the berth, kissing him hard. “So beautiful.” He fell on Prowl, taking his seals with little preparation aor care._

_When morning rolled around Prowl was huddled in the corner, terrified of what else the mech would do time him. His new master though, sat up on the berth looking completely confused._

_“Who the frag are you? And what was you doing in my berthroom?”_

_“You bought me last night,” Prowl whispered, hunching further into himself. “You took my seals. And I think I might be injured.” His valve burned horribly._

_The mech stared, horror slowly sliding across his features._

_“Oh...frag. Oh frag. Let me call a medic. Oh...frag,” the mech whispered. “Just stay put. Please. I’m going to get a medic.”_

_“I’m not going anywhere, master.” He had no place to go anyways._

_Jazz gave him a little nod, “I’m sorry for that. i’m sorry that you have been put into this situation...and I’m sorry for---for what I did to you. If you want me to I will arrange for you to go to someone else. Someone who will keep you safe.”_

_“It’s fine,” Prowl had whispered. The thought of taking such a chance was even more terrifying._

_Prowl tried not to think too much of his first days with Jazz. It had been rocky at first. They had hurt each other, but they had finally come to an understanding. Jazz stopped drinking high-grade altogether._

_He respected the mech for that, and the contract that he had drawn up for the terms of their relationship that was sitting before him at that moment. He had a feeling few masters would have bothered with such a thing. Prowl reviewed the contract carefully and flagged any points of contention._

_He felt jittery about going back to berth with the mech, but a half-vorn had passed, and it was getting frustrating even on his end. He had never been good at tip-pedding around a subject. The first time had been a disaster. The medic had attended him though, patching him up and admonishing Jazz to be more careful._

_The mech had not touched him since then. He had tread quietly about him, but Prowl could tell that he wanted to dearly._

He sighed and looked back at the newly revised pad. There was some things he wanted to ask Jazz about, like the modifications he wanted done to Prowl’s frame. The Praxian was not sure of that at all, and would not be until he had more details on the procedure. It seemed excessive, but if his master enjoyed it he was not going to protest too much.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

Prowl knelt on the medical berth, wings bound in a stationary position while the modification artist waked around him touching his wings. His touch was light, far lighter than the feel of his masters gaze on the back of his wing panels. “How many would you like? Most mechs get one or two towards the top,” Glimmer said.

“Ten, evenly spaced along the edge of each wing, and one above his anterior node,” Jazz said firmly, a smirk gracing his faceplates. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how much it would make Prowl squirm.

It did too, Prowl let out a little whimper where he was bound to the table. Jazz knew he would have been far more vocal about it if not for the gag in his mouth. He whimpered more loudly until the artist brought out his tools and neatly punched the first hole, wiping away the energon the dripped out before sliding the first piercing into place. 

Prowl’s engine stuttered as the pain washed through his system, triggering pleasure sensors along the way. 

“Shhhh...no overloading,” Jazz said, nuzzling his audial. “Let Glimmer to his job, pet.” 

Prowl offlined his optics moaning loudly as the second piercing was slipped into place, and then the third. By the time the fifth found it’s mark energy was crackling along his plating and a little puddle of lubricant had seeped out from his panel to the berth below him. 

“Such a good pet,” Jazz crooned, and touched the pierced doorwing as Glimmer moved to start on the otherside. 

Prowl was trembling by the time the second wing was done, his valve clenched hard feeling sadly empty. He would have begged and pleaded had he been able to, but his master did not remove his gag. Instead he unclipped Prowl’s cuffs from the berth, and clipped them to the matching cuffs around his ankles, making his back arched, but not in an uncomfortable way. He pushed Prowl’s knees apart with a spreader, and stepped back admiring his handwork. 

“Open, Prowl,” he said, and the Praxian’s panel snapped open with a loud snick revealing the dripping valve beneath.

Glimmer whistled, “Hot. If you ever want to sell him, you should give me a comm.” He moved closer, looking his fill. “You know...you could do the same thing to the inner rim of his valve as you did to his wings. It would feel amazing.” 

“You think so?” Jazz asked, and moved in beside the artist. He reached out and flicked Prowl’s anterior node wringing a squeal from the Praxian. 

“Oh, I do. I really do,” Glimmer smirked. 

Jazz smirked, and watched the play of emotions across his slaves face, “I think I would like that as well. Carry on.” 

He watched with lazy optics as one by one the piercings were put into place. Prowl was more vocal this time, nearly howling behind the gag. 

Glimmer placed the last piercing in such a way that it would constantly tease the anterior node. 

“Lovely. You were right, I think,” Jazz said, flicking the node and watched Prowl’s hips twitch. 

“Such a good pet. Shut your panel now, it is time to go home...wait one second actually,” Jazz smirked and pulled a false spike from his subspace, and slowly worked it in before gently shutting the panel and placing a magnetized lock over it. he patted the panel gently. “Might as well make the trip home interesting. 

Glimmer helped Jazz untie the Praxian and get him on his peds, which shook and trembled. 

“Are you sure you can make it home with him like that?” Glimmer asked. 

“I have a private transport picking us up, “ Jazz said, and handed over the credits he owed the mech. 

He pulled the leash from his subspace and clipped it onto Prowl’s collar, “Come along pet.” 

“Yes, master,” The Praxian whispered as Jazz led him out into the light. His wings gently chimed, drawing stares as they went. 

Jazz would randomly reach out and flick the piercings on Prowl’s wings, making him shiver, and his temperature rise. 

“You look good like this,” Jazz whispered in his audial. “Very good. Would you like to put on a show for everyone?” 

“You know I would,” Prowl answered in his most demure tone, a moan escaped from his lips as the toy in his valve buzzed to life. His valve clenched hard, rippling around it. The piercings buzzed right along with it, and left Prowl panting. 

He sank to his knees in the middle of the street, and nuzzled Jazz’s panel. “Please, master.” Prowl moan, and nuzzled the panel until it finally slid away. He lapped at the spike until it finally pressurized in his oral cavity, and swallowed it down. 

The crowned the gathered only seemed to encourage them both. 

Jazz was never one to hold back when putting on a show. He took ahold of Prowl’s helm and thrust inside, over and over until finally overload hit him. He pulled out, spurting transfluid across Prowl’s frame. 

“You look good like that, pet,” Jazz grinned, pulling him to his feet he kissed Prowl hard. “Very good.” 

The crowd moved about them, cheering and lewdly giving suggestion to Jazz about what he should do with Prowl next. Prowl listened, and moaned, valve clenching tightly around the toy inside him. 

Jazz pulled him to his feet, and pressed him against one of the alley walls, and slowly drew the toy out, thrusting it in and out several times before removing it altogether. He lifted Prowl’s slight form up, hooking his arms under Prowl’s knees. He spread him wide, and trust inside, pinning him to the wall. “Such a good pet, and good pets get rewards,” Jazz said before thrusting into the tight valve before him. 

Prowl moaned, letting his helm fall back. “Please master. Please.” 

“Overload then, let me watch you,” Jazz commanded, and Prowl roared. He clung to Jazz, optics and vocalizer fritzing as he came off of his high. 

Jazz set him gently to his feet, cleaning them both off. He waited until Prowl was steady on his peds again before he made his way through the crowd. He ignored the offers that he received for Prowl, and the offers to ‘rent’ him for the night. He could only snort at that. Like he would sell something so irreplaceable.


	2. Obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt- 48. Slavery AU: Jazz/Prowl -Pet Show

Prowl closed his optics, and shivered. He did not like being on display like this, but it got his master all revved up. The interfacing afterwards was always amazing. 

He didn’t struggle against the knotting that bound him, instead he relaxed against it and the strange servos touching him. 

“What a well behaved pet you have,” the judge praised. He ran a hand along the leading edge of Prowl’s wing, caressing each of the piercings in turn. “Such interesting modifications as well.” 

Prowl could feel Jazz’s smile in his field as he moved closer. “Would you like to try him out?” 

The judge revved, “Perhaps, after I evaluate the other pets. In the final round.” 

He moved on and Prowl gave a little reev. His systems had been running hot since Jazz began the binding process. The rope between his valve lips had a series of knots that seemed to scrape against the node whenever he made the slightest of moves. It left a little puddle dripping between his spread thighs. 

“If he doesn’t take you up on your offer, then you should, master. I need you.” 

“All in due time, pet,” Jazz murmured, and caressed his chevron. “Just have patience.” 

The judge nodded at Jazz to let them know that the were in the final round. Jazz began the slow process of untying Prowl to put him in a different position. 

“On your front,” Jazz commanded, and fastened a cuff to each limb. He clipped the right ankle cuff to the right wrist cuff and did the same to the other side before fastening each side to the bolt on that end of the little platform leaving him spread wide and unable to do much more than wiggle. Jazz grinned, and walked around Prowl admiring his work before taking a package out of his subspace. The box was full of tiny weights that he placed one by one onto each of the piercings. 

Prowl whimpered with each one. It made the piercings the much more noticeable to his sensory net, and left his doorwings trembling. 

“Almost done, pet,” Jazz crooned. He slowly added a weight to each of the piercings along Prowl’s valve. The Praxian whimpered, clenching his hands tight, and offlined his optics. He didn’t see Jazz pull another box from his subspace, a box containing a large hook with a ball at the end of it. When he did notice another whimper left his vocalizer. Jazz smeared lubrication on the ball before doing the same with his fingers. He slowly stretched Prowl’s wasteport before slowly pushing the ball end of the hook inside. When it was firmly inside he pulled out a rope and tied it tightly to the collar around Prowl’s neck before stepping back and admiring his work. “Perfect.” 

Jazz pushed the platform over to the judging area and Prowl watched the competition be brought in. Three Praxians that Prowl did not recognize were brought up onto the stage, and then Bluestreak was carried in by the twins all wrapped in delicate ribbons. He frowned at that, not wanting to see his little brother in such a position. He made a whining sound of distress right up until the time Jazz slipped a blindfold onto his optics. 

He heard murmuring around him, and strange hands on him again, touching his plating, pulling at the piercings. He could feel lubricant began to trickle out of his valve and hear a loud snick before something large and blunt was pushed up against his valve.The spike did not feel like Jazz’s. It was wider, and the ridges were not in the right spots. It spread him wide enough the he was near capacity. The calipers fluttered, trying to cycle down and failing in the end. 

The mech above him moaned, and rolled his hips thrusting hard. Prowl rocked into each thrust, little whimpers and moans escaping his vocalizer, until the voice above him commanded him to overload. The charge rushed through him, leaving him panting and dazed as the transfluid washed into his valve. 

The sounds around him barely registered while Prowl was stuck in his post overload bliss. He was still in a daze as Jazz was handed the first place trophy and the rest of the mechs were given their places as well. His brother took third and the twins seemed happy enough with it. The purse even at that level was a substantial amount of credits. 

Prowl relaxed on the platform as the image captures were taken, and finally Jazz released him from his bonds. He was rather pleased with their placing himself. Ten percent of the winnings would be sent to his own account. Slowly it was building up, and he would find a good use for it even though he had no real intention of buying his freedom.


	3. Picture Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 38. Slavery AU: Smokescreen -Seeing Pet Show Pictures

“Oh, Smokey, you gotta see this,” Blackjack snickered and shoved a tablet underneath Smokescreen’s nasal ridge. He started to push it away, but that the doorwings on the vid caught his optics and after a startled moment he realized just what he was seeing. Those were his brothers in that vid! 

“Where the frag did you get this?” Smokescreen growled. 

Blackjack snickered, “Wouldn't you like to know.”

“I would you fragger. Tell me now!” Smokescreen snapped, his wings flaring out. 

Blackjack lost his grin, “Mech named Swindle sells them over the network. He’s pretty easy to contact. Sells them for a good price.” 

“You idiot. Those are my brothers in that vid. Frag. You are a glitch.” Smokescreen vented heavily, his processor racing. He didn’t know what to even do to save them. If he left, he would never be able to get back but he couldn't leave his brothers in such a bind. They were clearly being abused. He was terrified for them, and horrified that they had ever been put in such a position. 

His processor raced, the more he thought about it the more uneasy he became. He could not leave them to such a fate. He shook his helm, he couldn't’ get the images out of his processor. To see his brothers used so made his tank roll. 

His optics narrowed and they settled on Blackjack, “You will get me in touch with this Swindle character.” 

“Aw...Smokey. I can’t do that,” Blackjack whined. 

“Oh, Primus help me. You can and you will or you will not like what I do to you,” he growled. 

Blackjack’s optics blanched, “Frag. Fine. I know a mech that knows a mech. I don’t see what good that is going to do though. Your brothers are out out your reach. We both know that you won’t leave Praxus. You’re too entrenched.” 

“Want to place a bet on that?” Smokescreen grumbled.


	4. The Bad Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30\. Slavery AU: Swindle/Smokescreen -Pet Party with his brothers

Prowl’s armour clattered in agitation as he saw the slimy sales mech walk through the doorway, followed by Smokescreen on a leash. Jazz had told him that they were expecting guests, but he had thought that he merely meant Sideswipe and Sunstreaker...who had arrived some while ago. 

The leash was taken off, and no sooner had it been then Smokescreen flung himself at his brother, nearly knocking him over. 

Smokescreen opened his mouth to speak, bot Prowl put his hand over it and hissed under his breath. “Not here.”

“Master, may I take him with me to see Bluestreak, please?” Prowl asked softly, optics settling on Jazz. 

Jazz looked to Swindle and made a shooing motion. It was all the permission that Prowl needed he practically dragged Smokescreen to his own room where Bluestreak was already waiting, curled up on a big pile of mesh pillows. 

“Smokey? What are you doing here? You should be back in Praxus! What are you---why do you have a collar on? Where you picked for the tithe? I didn’t think they could do that! You are the sole heir!”

“I ran away...and sold myself to Swindle. It was the only way I thought I would be able to see you two. I missed you so much, and I was so fracking scared. I saw this horrible vid of you...of both of you...and...I just couldn't leave you to that.” 

Prowl and Bluestreak exchanged a glance. They knew exactly what vid he was speaking of. “I think you greatly misunderstand the situation,” Prowl finally said. “We weren’t forced to do That. Jazz and I have a contract. There are rules between us. He is a good master, Smokey. Admittedly we had a rocky start...but trust me when I say I want this.” 

Smokescreen’s doorwings quivered in distress, “How can you say that? I saw what t-they did to you. They humiliated you! They fragged you in public! That is...that is...something that should be private. Between bondmates!” 

Prowl vented hard, “Smokey...they take care of us. They have given us shelter. Safety. All things considered it could be much worse. I do not believe all owners are so kind and caring. Jazz makes sure I am able to see Bluestreak. And if I do give him a sparkling we will bond. It is far more than I thought I would end up with. Praxus threw us away. I thought I would offline.” 

“I thought I could save you from this,” Smokescreen said in a tiny voice.

“How? Where would we go, love? We can’t go home. They would send us right back to the auction block. I’ve heard stories about what happens to bots that try to return. They aren’t pretty,” Prow whispered, and pulled his shell-shocked brother into his arms. “I am glad to see you all the same. I missed you so much.” 

Bluestreak insinuated himself into the hug, clinging to them both tightly. “We never thought we would see you again. Oh, Smokey...is that mech treating you okay?” 

Smokescreen buried his faceplates against his brothers. “I tried to get him to just send a message to you...but he wouldn't. He said I would have to come to him. He took my seals. All of them. I was saving those for my bonded.” 

Prowl pet the space between Smokescreen’s doorwings, “Oh...Smokey.”

“I just wanted to see you again,” he whispered bleakly.

“Did he hurt you?” Bluestreak asked, a frown marring his normally cheerful faceplates. 

“No. No he wasn’t. Kinda made it worse...I guess. He tries to act like I had a choice. Like I want to be with him. I don’t know. He goes on and on about how he wanted me. How he had to have me...like I should be grateful.” His doorwings flattened against his back, “He’s possessive too. His brothers wanted to---to try me out. Frag he got so mad. He said I was his and they needed to keep their slimey claws off of me. I don't’ understand any of this at all. I’ve just fragged it up so badly, and all I wanted was to see you again.” 

“We are here now,” Prowl said.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

They gathered all of the credits that they had saved together. It was a nice sum. More than enough to pay for Smokescreen’s freedom. Jazz had acted as their contacted with Swindle, and Prowl could already tell that the reply was not a good one, “I’m sorry, my mech. He isn’t going for it. He---he flat out refused. He said there wasn’t enough credits in all of Cybertron. He said to tell you that he isn’t going to ‘fragging give up the mech he plans to bond with,” and he said that if it didn’t mean so much to Smokescreen to see you he would completely forbid it. I’m sorry, Prowler. I tried.”   
“I know you did. Thank you,” Prowl ducked his helm. It was an impossible situation. 


	5. Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24.Slavery AU: Prowl/Jazz -Attempted petnapping  
> 52\. Slavery!AU: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/? -a taste of the winner

Prowl quivered as the large shadow hovered over him. The mech had paid a fortune to be with the winner, and Prowl did not begrudge that. Jazz would deposit a tidy sum into his savings. Some masters would not even do that. And the mech in question would not hurt him. No matter how much he wanted to it was not worth it to him to do so. 

Prowl worried for the little mech that this creature owned. Skids. They had said his name was Skids. He was small, and shiny. He had a haunted look in his optics though. It was a look Prowl could not get out of his processor. Nor could he unsee the lips above him curl up into a look of satisfaction as the monster slowly pushed into him. The stretch burned. It was too fast for his callipers to adjust, and just as soon as they were nearly used to it the mech pulled out slowly, and thrust in hard making Prowl gasp. 

“Such a tight little thing. If your master was only selling you. I’d love to break you in.” The mech’s lips curled up in amusement and set a harsh pace, driving Prowl close to overload despite any want of his own. “I would just love to see you and Skids together. I’m sure you would make a pretty picture.” The mech laughed, and it sent a shiver up Prowl’s spinal strut.

He was so close. Close enough to grasp the overload the mech pulled up and mech-handled him onto his hands and knees. He pressed Prowl’s chest down onto the table. The white mech gripped the edges of it tightly as he felt the blunt end of the spike press against his wasteport and slowly press him wide. He rolled his hips, slipping in to the hilt, and pinning Prowl against him and the table. Overlord bit his Audial. “Maybe I will take you from him then. I think I will. Leave you chained to my berth to fulfill any whim.” 

Prowl whimpered, clawing at the table. “No.” 

The mech laughed loudly, gripping his hips and thrusting in hard enough to dent Prowl’s plating. “You have no say in this, slave. I get what I want, and if you don’t be quiet I will remove your vocalizer.” 

Prowl offlined his optics and tried to distance himself mentally. Jazz was waiting right outside the door. He wouldn't let the mech do this. He wouldn't let him be taken away. 

The mech thrust into him one more time. Prowl’s optics went white with the surge of electricity. He fell to the table, and went offline. He was still coming back online as he felt his arms being pulled behind his back, and bound tightly. A gag was pushed into his mouth before he could scream, and before he could react his doorwings were ripped from his back. The sudden sensor blindness, left him in shock. He didn’t even struggle as he was pushed into the big mech’s subspace, and the blackness beyond.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

“I think you have something of mine,” Jazz said flippantly, his optics narrowed behind the visor.

The mech in front of him laughed, full lips quirking up into a smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. “Search my estate, Jazz. I don’t have anything of yours.” 

Jazz bristled, “Already on it mech. If you’ve hurt Prowler I’m going to tear you apart.” 

Overlord threw his helm back and laughed, “A little think like you, please. You aren’t going to find him on my property.” 

Jazz quivered, and gave Overlord a calculating look, “On your person then. Cams didn’t see you take Prowler out of that room, but you did...didn’t you. Give him to me now. Or, I’ll...I’ll...” 

The mech laughed again, “What Jazz. You’ll do what?” 

“I’ll contact your sponsor. Do you really want me to drag the Lord Protector into this?”

Overlord snarled, but opened his subspace and let Prowl fall to the ground. “I will make you sorry for this.” 

“No. No you won’t dare lay a digit on me. You’ll smile, and you will look away, and you won’t even say anything when I take your own pet away as compensation for damages. We both know how the Protector feels about these stupid games you play.” 

Jazz carefully lifted Prowl off the floor, his optics never leaving Overlord’s smoldering gaze.


End file.
